Sehne
by Kisua
Summary: One-shot. Every time he died, he woke up to the dreary walls of his orphanage and the need to make things right. Perhaps this time there will be no need for death or deceit. Perhaps this time they can both be reknown lawyers, and the dark age will never come. If he sets things right.


**My first Ace Attorney fic, and the first one I uploaded to this site. Contains spoilers for the Apollo Justice game, and possibly the others. I'm considering whether or not to leave this as a one-shot or to make it multi-chaptered, though I don't have any of the story truly planned. Feedback would be greatly appreciated! If you have any opinions or queries, please don't be afraid to ask, though I know I have a lot of information holes and odd bits, haha~. Enjoy!**

* * *

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Sometimes I wish I could rip the clock off the wall, smash it into fragmented pieces, and just like that, stop time itself.

But of course, one couldn't do that, now could they?

They say it was the devil's smile- that I was deluding myself into thinking it could have been anything kinder.

But of course, they didn't know him like I did, right?

I remembered since long ago, all of the times I solved the cases, all of the times I sought company with others, all of the bad choices, all of the incredibly good, looping endlessly over and over, without anyone the wiser… This may have been our lifetime, the straight and always straight, the one way, the forward moving eternity, but somehow, some time ago, I realized something.

This was just going to repeat, perhaps forever. Well, in any case, it sure seems that way.

Yet, I have a feeling that it will all stop once everything is set right.

When I set it right.

* * *

Flapping my hand uselessly at the bedside table, I let out a groan of grogginess as my meaty appendage finally hit the 'shut up' button to the loud, incessant beeping. Forcing my bleary eyes open, I struggled for a few minutes to comprehend my surroundings, attempting to kick my brain into gear. The first thing I noticed were the ragged, thin sheets that were tangled around my body. The second thing I noticed, when I pulled my spine up to a sitting position, were the dreary walls and other occupants in the room, also attempting to come into a state of function. The third thing I noticed was that I was definitely, unfortunately, uncomprehendingly, a child.

Perhaps with less uncomprehension than most others would have in this situation though, I mused to myself. Glancing at the three other children with an intelligent gaze, I yawned and stretched, swerving my legs in order to ride out of bed. Out of habit, though more mentally than physically, I straightened the sheets and set things in their place. Though my desk in the office was not exactly the neatest, being a lawyer with various cases and documents and files to manage caused at least a little tidiness to be a necessity.

Just like that, before anyone could question it, I changed into my drab day clothes, grabbed the book from the nightstand, and strode out.

It was just the way I remembered it. Same concrete walls, same drumming of children's feet reverberating through the same concrete floors. It was an utterly dreary, uninspiring place, but for now, it was my home.

As I walked, I could hear slightly panicked stumbling from behind me in the corridor. Smiling a little as they came closer, I stumbled a little myself at the arm that was slung around my shoulders. Grinning at me was my best friend, Clay Terran, as jovial as ever.

"Hey, Apollo! Just gonna leave me behind, eh? Where are you going so early in the morning?"

Wordlessly I held up the tattered textbook under my arm, and he shook his head as if exasperated, though amusement and fondness shone bright in his eyes. "Geez, you're looking at that again? You must've read through that thing at least fifteen times now!"

Laughing a little, I shrugged, glancing at the grey city though the windows. "Eighteen times, actually. I'd love it if they had anything better to thumb through, but this is the most academically advanced text in this whole building, you know?" All I got in response was a chuckle and a ruffle though the hair. Good thing I didn't gel it yet.

Pushing through the heavy doors, side by side Clay and I headed for the old tree in the yard. I could sense that Clay felt somewhat off about me, about my mannerisms and speech, but other than throwing a contemplative glance my way, he didn't comment. Of course, I knew this would result in him trying extra hard to cheer me up today, so we'll probably end up in the space center sooner or later. A fond smile wormed itself onto my lips. Good ol' Clay.

As I sat under the tree, talking with Clay who was gesturing animatedly, the back of my mind wandered. Wandered with the question of what to do this time.

How to set it right.

* * *

Raising a hand, I cleared my throat and straightened my posture before knocking resolutely on the firm wooden doors. It was doomsday, the day of reckoning, and I was waiting for my sentence. Or, at least, that would be the description used by anyone else who knew of my circumstances, along with my rapidly-increasing heartbeat. It was almost like the time I was killed by atroquinine- oh no, let's not go there… Or perhaps like the time I was abandoned on the streets with a drunk- okay, not there either… I swear he's a good person! Or, at least, that's what I want to believe…

Hearing muffled footsteps inside, I swallowed thickly and tried to settle my nerves. Regardless, it is my chance to make things right, and make things right I shall. Yeah! I'm fine!

I'm fine!

…Oh god, I'm not fine.

"Excuse me, what business do you have here?"

There hz is, in all of his dignified glory. Though any other outsider would think this man was pleasant with that smile, curious as to what I was doing here but nevertheless polite, the barely-noticeable clenched jaw and the casual pushing up of his glasses told all to me. He was pissed that some kid interrupted him in whatever he was doing, and was far more impatient than his holy image appeared.

This doesn't help my nerves at all.

"H-Hello sir!" Standing at attention stiffly, I inwardly winced at my own Chords of Steel. Now was not the time to be yelling from anxiety. Kristoph Gavin disliked loud and annoying people the most. Clearing my throat with a faint blush staining my cheeks from the outburst, I gathered my wits and looked right into his eyes, a wave of calm washing over me forcibly by the level stare. C'mon Justice, what use were those years of being an attorney if you can't even bluff your own nervousness? "...My name is Apollo Justice.. and I want to talk to you."

He was practically oozing annoyance, and for some reason I suspect he was barely refraining from shutting the door in my face. I sucked in a breath. "Mr. Gavin, your brother sent me here. Please let me in." That got him to pause suspiciously. Regardless, we exchanged pleasantries (all a farce on both ends, but I digress) and suddenly I found myself nursing a cup of tea in my hands in his office, the cold blue eyes staring me down calculatingly. I stared back with my own unwavering gaze, with perhaps too much age for my body, but that would only serve to intrigue him more. Or so I hope. After all, it was time to drop the bombshell, and I was dearly hoping that he wouldn't shoot me on the spot.

"Forgery is unbecoming of you, Kristoph."

The reaction was instantaneous, plain to see for anyone who was looking for it. Head tilted to the side every so slightly, molars grinding inconspicuously, eyes chilly like frosted over hell. I could feel my dry throat, and I desperately wanted to take a sip from the inviting scent of Earl Grey, but my mind was too rattled with paranoia to give in to the desire. Parting my lips, I hesitated for barely a fraction of a second before continuing.

"So is murder- but of course, you wouldn't dare do something so evil, would you? Especially not to a little girl who just wants to please her daddy, even if she's doing something illegal."

I could feel cold sweat start to form on the back of my neck at the glare in my direction. Oh, it was murderous. Very murderous indeed. And yet the man's face was carefully neutral, carefully constructed, mind locked. It just made me feel even more paranoid about the tea in my hands. I soothed myself, ironically, with the image of Kristoph those times when his plans were completely and utterly foiled, hair disheveled and shrill laughter echoing eternally. At the time, it was a terrifying sight, but it was proof he could snap, proof that he wasn't the devil after all, just another human being. Patting the bracelet dangling on my wrist, I felt a surge of courage. I know what I need to do, and I'm doing it right now.

"You know... blood is not so easy to clean off your hands, even if you are higher than the common people, Kristoph. It will come back to haunt you when you least expect it, even years later, and eventually the whole truth will be known, and at that point, nothing can protect you. Not the law, not your rights, not your evidence- or lack thereof- and not even anyone who you once called family. So... there's only one thing to do, isn't there?"

I offered a hesitant, lopsided grin, completely inappropriate for the situation, and received an enraged, but slightly terrified glare back. It wasn't a mocking grin, it wasn't a triumphant grin. It was trying to portray my honesty, trying to be a little reassuring, and perhaps it was a little tired of all of this.

"Don't do something you're going to regret, Kristoph. Don't start the chain of events that will lead to your downfall. Because even if the trial ends up with Zak Gramarye as guilty, he will escape, Phoenix Wright will get revenge on you, and in the end, the only thing in your life remaining will be iron bars, books, and waiting for death."

I can feel my own pain leaking through my voice, and can feel the disbelieving, cynical, doubting look directed at my closed eyes.

"There are so many more big cases to be had, Kristoph! Don't waste your future on this one! Don't give into your emotions like the rest of the 'riff-raff'! Because in the end, you're one of the best defense attorneys I have ever known. You don't need something as dirty as forgeries to win. Your time will come, and it is nearing. Our legal system isn't that far gone, yet."

The chair scraped back, and I closed my eyes, preparing to possibly be murdered, or interrogated, or something…

A shrill laugh echoed in my ears when there was really only a small chuckle.

My eyes shot open to see the anger flown away from all features of Kristoph's face, leaving only mild amusement and irritation.

"So you remember then, Justice."

I felt something crash into my stomach. Nothing physical, but those words were a blow I was not expecting at all.

What?

Since when?!

"Imagine my surprise when one minute, I was executed, dead, and the next I wake up late to work." A chuckle, perhaps a little sinister, perhaps not. "The initial moments of disorientation were very embarrassing. I thought this was a gift, telling me to do things properly and leave no tracks this time, but then Apollo Justice appears on my doorstep, telling me that I 'don't need forgeries to win'."

"Kristoph-"

"Mr. Gavin, if you please."

A memory of a smile, and a pat on the head, saying 'call me Kristoph', and I felt a little broken. Either he didn't remember that particular time, or he was cutting off all relations with me. I eyed the tea in my hands, suddenly certain that the innocent liquid was laced with poison, laughing at me in the dignified way Kristoph always did-

"So, I'm assuming that if I do use forgeries and such, you'll be waiting at every turn to expose me, hm? To turn on your mentor once more?"

I winced a little, I'll admit, but my gaze is still strong. I nodded resolutely. He smiled, perhaps the devil's smile, or perhaps just Kristoph's smile.

"Then I won't."

"-I know that I can't do much to- wait… what?"

His smile stretched a little wider, and took his own cup, bringing it to his lips.

"Perhaps you need to work on your hearing rather than your aptitude at screaming in the courthouse, Justice. I said I won't murder anyone, or create forgeries to win my battles. Satisfied?"

I was… a little dumbfounded. I was absolutely expecting my bracelet to tighten any minute now, hinting at the lie I knew must be there. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. He rose a delicate eyebrow at me, sipping his tea with all the elegance and grace as a naturally born prince.

"S-Seriously…?"

He tilted his head a little, the coil of platinum blond hair falling slightly across violet fabric. "Yes, Justice. Now, is that all? I'd like to get back to work, if you don't mind."

Suddenly the devil wasn't smiling so sinisterly anymore.

Gingerly, I set the teacup down on the desk and stood. Just as I was about to walk out, however, I hesitated and turned back. "...Kri-... Mr. Gavin?"

"Yes, Justice?"

I took a swig from the cup, looking pathetically barbaric compared to my mentor, but I didn't care. A grin was on my face as I set the cup back down. Kristoph's slightly startled face was really uplifting.

"Thanks for the tea."

* * *

Clay was waiting for me outside of the office, and bounded up to me as soon as the heavy wooden doors slammed shut. His honest and excitable grin was a breath of fresh air after the tense, exquisite environment of the Gavin Law Offices. I found myself unable not to grin back.

"So, how'd it go? You gonna tell me what all that was about?"

Shaking my head, I walked with him side by side towards the space station. "Nah, it's a secret I can't even tell you, Clay. But maybe I'll tell someday."

Pouting a little in jest, he sighed lightly. "Fine, don't tell me. But whatever it is, it's not going to stop us from seeing Mr. Starbuck today, right?"

I laughed. "Of course not. After all… I'm fine."

The sun gazed down upon us as if smiling along. I checked the time. Fifteen minutes has passed.

Shaking my head, I felt a weight lift from my chest as I saw the rocket in the distance, my best friend by my side, and the person who I always admired, even after their heinous crimes, fixed before they're broken.

A new, different start.

As Clay looked at me in concern, I closed my eyes and smiled.

"I'm fine."

* * *

Kristoph Gavin set his cup of tea down, staring at the empty one across the desk. His thoughts were whirling in his brain, but that was a typical, almost nostalgic state of mind that he wholeheartedly embraced. After all, he had a lot of time to think, in prison. Not much else to do, really. Read. Sleep. Eat. Think.

Sometimes in his boredom he'd even catch himself humming his bruder's distasteful music into the silence, as if a plea to him for a break in the monotony. Of course, such behaviour was disgraceful, but even his own pride and ego wore down in that place after a long while.

Klavier. The one person he truly did care about, even if he did use him as just another pawn. Though, the man (he couldn't quite call him a boy, anymore) of course would never believe it if he told him. His acts of bloody deceit equated to betrayal in his brother's mind, he knew. Though still, he had a slight glimmer of hope that perhaps he would visit him, and they could talk, if only once, like they were brothers again.

Of course, he never did come.

So in his isolation, he latched onto his seething anger of the image of the one most disgusting man on the planet. He hated Phoenix Wright. Yes, the Justice boy and his brother caused endless problems for him as well, but the root of all things gone sour, the man behind the operation was Phoenix Wright. And he stewed, and he stewed, and he stewed more over his fury and hatred.

But even that section of his prison experience drew to a close.

In the end, ironically, he wasn't a person able to hang onto hatred as a life source. He held a grudge against Wright and the Gramaryes for a full seven years, but in the enclosed space, his advanced brain grew dull at the single, simple thought. After all, he wasn't like other mindless brutes, and he recognized in himself that if he continued on the path of mindless obsession, his sanity would really be decayed to the point of no return.

So he thought about other things.

Apollo Justice. The golden boy himself. The boy that should not have existed, and yet did. Why had he chosen to work at his law firm, of all places? There were so many other firms he could have chosen, and yet fate seemed to like throwing obstacles in his way, twisting the plot of the universe until there were only Kristoph and his old crimes. The boy himself was an enigma as well, a trembling surge of thunder yet level-headed enough to decipher his carefully encrypted secrets and toss them into the open.

He knew Justice hated him as well, after all they were on two directly opposite sides, never able to reconcile. But… Why did he look so resigned, willing to carry out 'justice' yet regretting, yet hurting when he was taken away? Did the fact that he was his mentor once really hold such weight on him? Pathetic emotions, clouding his sense of judgement, just bogging him down.

But that was exactly what happened to himself, wasn't it?

Now, Kristoph Gavin wasn't a psychopath, despite what the general public believed. Perhaps the clinical definition was possibly accurate, but he knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't, in fact, a psychopath. He knew right from wrong, and most of the time, he chose right. He had much blood on his hands, but he had his reasons. He murdered when it was convenient, but he wasn't unfeeling.

But eventually, even that assertion melded away into uncertainty.

When they announced the day of his execution, he was almost… relieved. He recalled somewhere about a theory where in the moments before one died, they either let go easily because they knew they accomplished good in life, or they struggled until the end, clawing away at life until the last agonizing second. He mused to himself on which one he'd end up as, since he absolutely knew none of his actions were 'good' in any kind of sense. He did not regret his actions, nor felt guilt over them. He knew he was a rotten, evil man, through and through.

However, he found when they strapped him to the chair, he had a sudden sense of calm.

In the end, he went quietly.

That was the final chapter on the life of the murderer Kristoph Gavin.

Shuffling through files and skimming the documents, he smiled wryly. Yet here he was, twelve years earlier, looking through case notes and scanning evidence as if his murders never happened. They never did happen yet, after all.

Then came Justice.

Fate was really a strange thing.

Then he thought that maybe, maybe this time, he'd try to do things like the grimy, antennaed boy who can paddling up the steps to his office. Maybe this time the mentor would take a page out of the book of his student.

Set things right.

He took out his phone, and started dialing.


End file.
